Skip to main content

Some Days Past 1

Pumpkin or Butternut, I've forgotten...hopeless!
Growing up, some points during the year, my parents would take my siblings and I to the villages they grew up in to visit our grandparents. "Kumusha" we call it, a break from suburban life, or more like a way for the folks to remind us that we came from somewhere. I have memories of weeding in the fields, back breaking work, but there was something uniting about it. The process included aunts, cousins, neighbours... With our bare hands, sometimes on all fours in the blaring heat of the day. We moaned, we sang, we dripped in sweat, but at the end of a season, that corn, those pumpkins, vegetables, beans, ground nuts, were harvest and sustained us thorough out the year. And there was always seed put aside for the next round. I come from a family of makers, embroiders, sowers, dress makers, builders, painters, helpers, planters, herdsman, weavers, mbira designers, writers, singers, healers, bakers, cookers (not a word I know), growers. They never starved because they knew how to grow things, they added and still give to their families, communities from the fruit of their creations. And for the most part loved it. So I'm tapping into that part of my identity and this day past one, two months after I put seed into the ground, I begin the journey of documenting my attempt at growing, fixing and making things.

But there's a twist, in my attempt to produce, produce (pun intended), I will also document whatever I'm learning about life overall on the way.  So I won't only talk plants, clothes, food, but will talk about life, love, friendship, God and everything in between. Why? Coz I'm growing in all those areas too.

I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm pretty sure I'll figure things out along the way! Here's to adding to the world.

Hope you'll stay for the ride and that you'll share your journey with me too.

Sweet Potato Seedlings... One Week In

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Isn't Culinary Prowess a Competitive Advantage?

It tastes good, I promise I'm confused. Like proper total perplex-ion (perplexity is the correct word, but perplex-ion expresses my total aghast-ness, oh making up words is fun). The Beginning I've always been that ninja chick, against type gal. I think that came from being sandwiched between two brothers as a middle child (I have two sisters as well, but I'm between the boys).  My closest play mates were dudes and I was a tom boy. A tom boy that loved to cook. Yeah, I would climb trees, play soccer (which I was lousy at), punch boys and make meat pies for my siblings and friends right after. The Middle Then I hit "Oh my gosh she has boobs-hood" a.k.a the awakening a.k.a adolescence. Boys weren't brothers any more, they were...interesting... at least some of them. Cooking for my siblings and friends around that age reduced because I went off to boarding school. But I do remember at the age of 14 I fell in like. I'd just mastered how to cook pap/...

Dresses of an age and imagined Tales

My sister is an avid vintage clothing collector and wearer and I've sourced these pieces from her.  I have always loved vintage, for the style but also the stories I imagined the wearer had all those decades ago.  I've created stories around these few items, and will be building on them each week.  Who do you imagine these women were? Where did they wear these items? Why don't you write your own version in the comments section?  All pieces are up for a new body to rock them.  If you'd like one or two or more, send me a mail at calmgold08@gmail.com and we'll talk Rands and cents.  Vintage love xoxo Dress 1: "My Mother's Black Dress" The Black Dress: It's 1929, I'm going to my first party. It's in the city somewhere. The city scares me, everyone there is beautiful and bold, like my mother. This is her dress, she's the stylish one. She's also the most beautiful woman I've ever met.  Me? I...

SMELL THE ROSES THEN GROW NEW ONES

My father visited me a few weeks ago. It was the first time in my life that I'd been alone with him in one house for an entire week. I was hosting, the house was mine, my first in my name (once the bond is paid off) and I wanted him to be proud. He was, but he had some thoughts on areas of improvement. It upset me, why couldn't a full 20 minutes pass before a critique followed a compliment. Then I realized, thaaaat's where I get it from. I do that to myself. Eeek! It took me two days to share with him, that, I just wanted him to be proud and not look at what could be done better. He was really sweet about it and I'll tell you what he said later. But he wasn't wrong. There was a whole lot that could be done better. I knew it, I just didn't have budget for it, his assessment was spot on but I just wanted him not assess and just beam with pride. I've wanted my father to be proud of me since I was 14 and I went to him with that 97% history result. He asked...